Uncharted Territory
by LOVExISxBLIND
Summary: It girl Gabriella and golden boy Troy both have secrets they would be devastated to let out. What happens when they begin to let each other in and some of their problems become too big to handle by themselves?
1. Beautiful Disaster

**Disclaimer: **I do not own and am not in any way affiliated with High School Musical. I do not own any of the characters in this story. I do not own and am not in any way affiliated with any brand or company mentioned in this story. This is a work of fiction, for entertainment purposes only. The town of Spring Lake Meadows and all of the places in the story were created by me. Any resemblance to real places are accidental and were not intended. I also do not own any of the song lyrics and titles that will appear in this story.

**Author's Note: **Hey everyone! This is the first work of mine I'm showing anyone besides my best friend and creative writing teacher in years. I'm really nervous, but I've worked really hard and I really hope that it shows! I'm not the type of person who asks for reviews, but I would really appreciate a couple on this chapter, just to get some constructive criticism and know if I should just toss the dreams of writing to the side! Thank you so much for giving someone new here a chance!

Every chapter is going to be the title of a song I think fits the chapter and a line or two from the song I think really fit the chapter will be at the beginning of each chapter! Some of the song lyrics might not make sense until the end, but I swear by the end of the chapter they fit! This chapter is also mostly Gabriella centric, but Chapter Two is going to be mostly Troy centric. After that the chapters may still have a heavier focus on one character over another in certain chapters, but I'm going to try and make it more spilt. Anyhow, here is the story, finally!

* * *

_And every magazine tells her she's not good enough,_

_The pictures that she sees make her cry._

_She would change everything, everything, just ask her._

_Caught in the in-between of beautiful disaster._

_--Beautiful Disaster by Jon McLaughlin_

* * *

Sweat dripped off of the olive colored skin as the girl led the other runners around the track, her long dark ponytail bouncing behind her. She was indifferent to everything around her, the only thing that mattered was moving her legs, moving them harder and faster than the girl behind her. She could tell from the way the sky was now pink tinted with vibrant oranges over the track that practice was nearing a close, not that it really mattered to her. She could keep going if she had to and sometimes she did, even though she didn't have to. Gabriella Montez wasn't running from anything physically chasing her, but when she ran all of the problems that followed her seemed to temporarily disappear. When she ran all that mattered was how fast she could move and how long she could move for.

"Time ladies!" A strong, yet still feminine voice yelled as the girls passed the woman. The girls slowed down, some laid on the cool ground of the track, others hunched over and inhaled sharply, all trying to catch their breath. Gabriella paced in a circle, her arms raised above her midnight colored head, inhaling and exhaling slowly. When she finally caught her breath she too laid down on the gravel, not out of exhaustion , but to let the cold ground cool her overheated body. It was forty-two degrees in November, typical for Spring Lake Meadows, but to the runners it felt like the worst of summer days.

"Good practice girls. I know cross-country is done for the season, but it's important to keep in shape for indoor. This is the last training day until tryouts so, newbies, make sure to run on your own," Coach Michaels warned the out of breath girls. "I'll see you ladies in two weeks." With that as a good bye, the coach turned on the balls of her running shoes and headed towards the faculty parking lot, leaving the girls on their own.

Gabriella squinted her sparkling chocolate colored eyes and looked up at the sunset. While she was running the sky had seemed beautiful, the pinks and oranges swirling together reminded her of summertime. Now, the sky seemed darker, almost red. It seemed ominous, angry, reminding Gabriella of how she felt when she wasn't running.

"Are you coming or what?" a voice came from her right. Gabriella glanced over and saw her friend Riley Donovan standing by the gate to the track, pulling her shoulder length brown hair out of the restrictive ponytail she ran with.

Gabriella nodded and pulled herself up off of the ground. When she stood up she was hit by the cold air and it reminded her that she was still in a white t-shirt and black shorts. She remembered her East High School Track and Field sweatshirt carelessly thrown over the fence and raced to grab it before heading towards the gate with Riley.

"Want to hit the gym with me before school tomorrow? I need to work on my sprints for indoor and that's so much easier to do inside," Riley asked as the girls walked towards the student parking lot.

Gabriella rolled her deep brown eyes and smiled at her friend. "You just don't want to run outside cause you're a baby in the cold," Gabriella laughed.

Riley narrowed her dull green eyes at her friend and huffed. "I don't see how it doesn't bother you. Running in the cold makes my throat feel like it's going to fall out of my neck."

Gabriella smiled but didn't say anything. Her throat always felt the same way, but she just didn't let it get to her. Running outside was a better stress reliever, she felt more focused on just running when she ran outside. Inside with the fluorescent lighting and old men two treadmills down with jiggling stomachs as they tried to keep up with a five mile an hour pace, she felt too exposed. Running was running though, and it was better than nothing.

"See you tomorrow, Riley," Gabriella said when the girls arrived at her car.

Riley waved to her friend and nodded, "Run inside with me in the morning?"

"If you insist," Gabriella agreed flatly, as she unlocked her car and climbed into the driver's seat. Three spaces down she watched enviously as Riley climbed into her white BMW and started the engine. It was the same exact car Gabriella had wanted when she got her driver's license, except she had wanted it in black. Instead she had gotten a black Cadillac Escalade. Most people wouldn't complain about this gift, most people would be thrilled, and Gabriella was too, but she had wanted something less noticeable. Gabriella had never been the type of girl who liked to draw extra attention to herself and attention was definitely drawn in a massive Escalade.

The Escalade had been her step-mom Holly's idea. Her dad had been perfectly content on getting her the car of her choice, but Holly had insisted that no girl in their right mind would want a BMW when they could have an Escalade. When Gabriella saw the car sitting in the driveway with a giant pink bow on top she had cringed. Escalades in her opinion not only drew attention, but they drew it in a 'Hey look at how much money I have!' kind of way. Holly was fond of drawing attention this way, which was clear from the expensive yet completely tacky decor of their house. Her step-daughter on the other hand hated drawing attention to her family's money.

Gabriella drove home with the radio playing softly in the background on 102.9, Spring Lake Meadows Top 40 station. She wasn't really a fan of Top 40 music, but she was a fan of fitting in and fitting in at East High meant listening to pop and rap about sex and drugs and knowing every word to every song. The raven haired beauty tuned out the meaningless lyrics as she drove through her small town, passing the familiar landmarks of the town: the Quiki-Quik gas station where anyone who could see over the counter could purchase a pack of Natty Light, Mama G's Kitchen where the best pancakes-- a.k.a. hangover food--could be found, and Barefoot Grill everyone's favorite place to convene after a basketball win to refuel before they heading out for the night. Ask any adult in Spring Lake Meadows what the town landmarks were and they would probably mention the botanical gardens, Kuser Farms and their famous apple trees, or the Spring Lake Meadows Symphony Hall. The teenagers knew better though, and thanked God that their parents didn't.

Gabriella's Escalade turned left at large white and green sign that read Plantation Estates. She pulled a little further down a wooded road before stopping at a set of wrought iron gates. The gates separated swiftly thanks to the barcode on the left rear window of the SUV and she waved her thin fingers at the guard in the guardhouse before pulling into the neighborhood. She made her way slowly down the cobblestone road and made a right onto Willow Tree Drive at the first stop sign she encountered. The black SUV pulled into the third driveway down where a large white house with a cherry red front door stood.

She put her car in park in the middle of the long driveway, not bothered that her step-mom would bitch about the "oil stains" that would forever mark the driveway. She then hopped out of the large car, fearing that her slender ankles would snap from the drop that always seemed just a little too long.

"Gabs!" she heard the voice of an angel yell from somewhere nearby. She whipped her head around to see the source's face.

The boy approaching her had the most beautiful face she had ever seen. His perfectly sculpted body cut across the grass between her house and the large Tudor style home on the left with a walk that belonged on a runway. The boy's brilliant blue eyes sparkled under the moonlight and his tan skin seemed to have a heavenly glow.

"Hey Troy," Gabriella responded calmly. Troy Bolton had been her neighbor her whole life. They hung out with the same group at school, "the popular crowd", but they had never been particularly close. Gabriella blamed herself for this and her inability to think of anything remotely interesting to say around him. When he was around, her personality seemed to shoot out the window, leaving her in a robot like shell, programmed to respond to questions and nothing more. Suddenly, she wished she was wearing jeans to hide her too-big for her liking calves.

Troy smiled a beautiful smile at her, exposing his flawlessly white teeth, "You coming to the game with everyone tomorrow night?"

"First basketball game of the season?" Gabriella questioned. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," she answered, flashing her own set of brilliant pearls at the boy.

"You better not, cause we're gonna kick Menendez's ass. And you're going to Barefoot after, right?"

"Of course, and before you ask, I'm going to the Evans' party too," she informed Troy referring to Ryan and Sharpay Evans, the two wealthiest members of their group.

He nodded and grinned at the girl, "Good to know. I gotta get home, I was shooting hoops and saw you pull up, but my parents are probably ready for dinner."

"See you tomorrow," Gabriella said as the boy walked the other way. She cursed herself silently as she headed towards the overbearing red door. Why could she never think of anything remotely interesting to say to him or ask him. They sat at the same table at lunch and even when they were in the same group conversation their interaction never stemmed outside of the occasional, 'Hey Gabriella, if you're not gonna finish you're fries can I have them?' Even when they were both drunk at parties, all inhibitions washed away, Gabriella could never bring herself to talk to him. They had been friends at one point, back when they spent their time in diapers and sandboxes. Then boys got cooties, and by the time they didn't Gabriella had lost all verbal function in his presence.

"I'm home," Gabriella called out as she stepped into the dimly lit foyer. On the floor she was stepping on, was a leopard skin rug Gabriella was pretty sure was real. She had never bothered to ask, out of disgust at both the thought of it being real and the hideous design her step mother thought was 'an elegant addition to the house.'

"I'm in the kitchen," her step-mom yelled back.

Gabriella made her way towards the kitchen, passing the family room, living room, and study on the way. On the walls were more tacky animal print designs and obscure African artwork her step-mom had picked up on a trip to South Africa. Gabriella couldn't stand the decor, when her mom was alive the house had been classy and elegant. Her mom never would have even considered putting disturbing tribal masks and animals skins on the wall and trying to pass them off as artwork. When her dad married her step mom the first thing Holly did was redecorate the entire house. She had tried to redecorate Gabriella's bedroom, but even at ten Gabriella insisted that the new family member stay out of her business.

"Hey Holly," Gabriella said to the blonde woman leaned against the counter when she reached the kitchen. The room was decorated in rich browns and reds and golds, it was the only room in the house besides her own that Gabriella could remotely stand.

"Hi sweetie," the woman said. She was wearing a black Juicy Couture track suit that exposed her perfectly flat stomach, heels, and a diamond choker. Holly Montez was the only person Gabriella knew that had to wear diamonds and stilettos to sit at home by herself. She ran a hand through her over processed straight, blonde hair, a stark contrast from Gabriella's soft black waves, and smiled at her step-daughter. "How was school?"

Gabriella shrugged at Holly's attempted at a maternal side. "It was fine," she responded dully.

"Well that's good," Holly said looking at a magazine in front of her, clearly bored with her step-daughter already. "I can't decide between Thai and Indian food for dinner. Do you have a preference?"

"Dad hates Indian," Gabriella reminded her step-mom.

Holly looked up from her magazine, "He's working late. One of his patients had an emergency and he had to go back to the hospital."

Carlos Montez was a Cardiologist, the best in Spring Lake Meadows. He was famous for always having the right diagnosis and almost always being able to save his patients. Being the best sometimes didn't leave a lot of time for his family. Before his first wife, Anna, died he always made time for her and their daughter. After she died he threw himself into his work, taking on more patients then he could make time for and teaching MCAT prep courses at the local university. Once he remarried, Gabriella had hoped it would get better, but it didn't, if anything he worked even longer hours and shifts at the hospital. It might have bothered Gabriella less if it didn't mean that she was stuck at home with Holly all of the time.

"Well, I already ate," Gabriella lied.

Holly examined her step-daughter closely, "You're looking little thin these days, Gab. Where did you eat?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes, Holly was one to talk about being thin. She was the queen of having two bites of a salad and then announcing how stuffed she was to the whole table. "A few girls from the team went to Barefoot Grill after practice."

Her step-mom raised a blonde eyebrow like she doubted this story, but she nodded anyway, "Fine, if you want any I'm sure there will be plenty."

"Thanks, I have homework so..." Gabriella trailed off and walked back towards the foyer and up the spiral staircase.

When she got to her room she collapsed onto her pink bed, utterly exhausted. Her stomach let out a low growl, but she ignored the feeling. Gabriella didn't have an eating disorder, she was on a diet, at least that was what she told herself. The diet had started innocently, but then it quickly spiraled out of control.

_"I look so fat," Gabriella Montez's best friend Taylor McKessie whined staring at her bikini-clad reflection in Gabriella's full length mirror. She had on a white bikini that looked amazing against her darker complexion, the white looked vibrant against the skin and she looked far from fat. _

_Gabriella and Sharpay Evans were lounging on Gabriella's bed in their bathing suits, ready to meet the rest of their friends at Mickler's Lake to celebrate the end of their sophomore year with a day of drinking, swimming, and tanning. "Don't even talk about fat, I've gained like three pounds this year," Sharpay said. _

_Both Gabriella and Taylor raised their eyebrows at their bone thin friend. Sharpay was the thinnest of the three girls, she was almost too thin, but it was natural. She had been blessed with a good metabolism and could eat whatever she pleased and rarely see any consequences. _

_Gabriella bit her lip and studied Sharpay's pink bikini wearing form. If Sharpay thought of herself as fat, Gabriella didn't want to think about how her friend saw her body. Gabriella thought about the waffles she had eaten for breakfast at Mama G's and wrinkled her forehead in disgust. On all of those weekend mornings had she even considered how many calories she was ingesting into her body? Suddenly her thighs seemed larger than life, how could she not have noticed how fat she had gotten? She had always thought that being a runner meant that she had a free pass when it came to junk food, but clearly she couldn't run enough in a year to burn of the number of calories in anything on the menu at Mama G's and Barefoot. _

_"What if we all start a diet together?" Gabriella suggested to her two best friends. If she had a support system to remind her how many calories were in those mixed drinks at parties and how much fat was in one slice of pizza there was no way she would make any slip ups. _

_Taylor and Sharpay nodded slowly, thinking about the idea. "That would be fabulous," Sharpay said, tossing her long blonde hair behind her shoulders. "I read in Shape Magazine that any diet is much more effective if you have someone to help you. It gives you motivation."_

_Gabriella laughed, "And I could seriously use some motivation because the food on the grill is going to be calling my name a couple beers in."_

_Her friends nodded and giggled in agreement. Drinking tended to add on the some calories, and not necessarily because of the calories in alcohol, but everything seemed so appealing under a drunken haze. Well, everything except carrot sticks._

_Gabriella stood up from her place on her bed and stepped in front of the mirror Taylor had abandoned. Just yesterday night she had loved her body. She had worn a new pair of white shorts and a bright teal halter top to a party at their friend Jason Cross' house and felt fabulous and confident as she walked into the crowd. Now, staring at her unsightly reflection in the mirror, she bit her lip. What had she been thinking? Her thunder thighs were not anything meant to slip into a pair of shorts, and her arms were huge and flabby, like an old lady's. She had read in Cosmo that halter tops accentuated her arms, well right now she needed something to hide her arms, anything but accentuate them. Her simple black bathing suit felt disgusting on her body. There was no way in hell she could wear a bathing suit to the lake, especially not if Troy was going to be there. _

_"I don't feel very well," she said to her friends, still staring at her distorted reflection. It wasn't a lie, just looking at her body in the mirror was making her feel ill. _

_Concern crossed over Taylor's dark features. "Are you still hungover," the darker girl asked her olive toned friend._

_Gabriella nodded, "Yeah," she lied, "I think I'm just going to stay home and relax today."_

_Sharpay narrowed her caramel colored eyes at her friend, "You can't skip the first trip of the season to Mickler's Lake."_

_Gabriella ripped her eyes away from the mirror and focused them on her blonde, socially oriented friend. Sharpay wouldn't miss a party if her life depended on it, on St. Patrick's Day that year she had been home sick for a week with the flu and spent the entire party throwing up in the bathroom, but she was there. She hated missing out on anything and the only thing she hated more was when people had fun without her. Wrapping her mind around missing out on the summer's first day at Mickler's Lake was impossible._

_"I just really don't feel well," Gabriella insisted. "I won't be any fun and you won't be able to have fun because you'll just end up taking care of me the whole time."_

_Telling her she wouldn't have any fun caught Sharpay. Fun was what Sharpay lived for. Gabriella and Taylor both had lives outside of parties and their social lives with running and Scholastic Decathlon and both girls were vying for the first spot in their class. Sharpay on the other hand was defined by her social life. It was what she was good at and more importantly it was what she really cared about. Even at the end of their sophomore year she knew she wanted to be an Event Planner so she could truly make parties and social events her life. _

_"Well, I guess if you really want to miss out," Sharpay sighed, running her hands through her shiny, Barbie blonde hair. _

_"We can stay with you!" Taylor said enthusiastically. Out of the three girls Taylor always had the least fun at parties. She didn't really like drinking so most times she offered to stay sober and be the designated driver. She still had fun just being with her friends, but it was never on the same level as anyone else at the party. Since she stayed sober, it also fell on her shoulders to take care of any of her friends that were making fools out of themselves or throwing up._

_Gabriella shook her head, she wanted to be alone to think and maybe try and run off the waffles from earlier. "You guys go ahead, I just wanted to have a veg out day."_

_Her friends looked her unsure about what to do when Sharpay made the decision for them. "Well, I guess me and Tay are going then."_

_"Have fun guys, tell everyone I said hey," Gabriella said, smiling weakly at her friends._

_"Call me if you need anything or want some company," Taylor offered._

_Gabriella nodded and watched as her friends left the room, closing her door behind them. Alone at last, she ran down the hallway to her parents' bedroom and went in. There was a massive portrait of Holly and their dad from their wedding day hanging over the couples bed. Normally Gabriella stopped and looked at it just to roll her eyes and question why anyone wanted a picture that large of themselves hanging on a wall. Today, instead of its gaudiness, something about the picture stuck out at Gabriella. Holly was thin, thin and as much as Gabriella hated to admit it, beautiful. Her collarbone jutted out of her body so sharply, so perfectly, Gabriella couldn't believe she had never noticed it before. _

_She finally tore her eyes away from her step-mom's collarbone, vowing that hers would look the same one day. She walked across the room to her parents bathroom and pushed open the mahogany door. On the floor next to the counter was the object she was looking for. The chrome gleamed and reflected the rest of the room in a distorted view. Gabriella stepped on top of the object and a number flashed across the top. She stared at the number for a moment, it just seemed so high. Ten pounds. When the number that flashed above the smooth chrome surface was ten digits lower than what it was now, she would be satisfied. Ten little numbers and she would be beautiful. _

_She left her parents bathroom, pausing again to admire Holly's collarbone before she left their room as well. As she walked down the hallway back towards her own room, she had no idea that the object she had just stepped on would become her life. She was so sure that in ten small numbers, everything would be perfect, ten numbers was all it would take. Gabriella had no idea that after ten numbers she would look in the mirror, still unsatisfied, and insist on five more. And then she would insist on more on top of that, never happy, never content. The lower the number ticked, the closer she would convince herself she was to beautiful. She also didn't know that the road she had just laid out for herself was filled with binges and purges and that sometimes the number would tick back up. _

_No, when Gabriella Montez left the object she had no idea of the monster she had unleashed._

* * *

In the Tudor style home across the lawn Troy Bolton was playing his XBOX 360, yelling to his friend Zeke Baylor through a headset that resembled the popstars of the early two-thousands microphones. Suddenly, the television screen in front of him flashed GAME OVER, and Troy glanced at the clock on his nightstand. It was 8:00 already, probably time to make a little effort at getting homework done.

He removed the headset from his chestnut colored head and set it down on top of the game system. He sat down at his desk and opened his Calculus textbook. The window over his desk faced the large white house next door and right into a certain raven haired beauty's bedroom. He glanced up from his text book and saw the girl he had spoken to just an hour and a half earlier staring at herself in the mirror. There was no denying her beauty. Gabriella Montez was the one girl that Troy Bolton didn't know how to play. The girl he actually thought he could care about for more than sex and she barely acknowledged him when he tried to talk to her. Whenever she talked to any of their other friends she was witty and charming and could make anyone within one hundred feet of her smile. With him though, she barely gave him the time of day.

Troy sighed and pulled his blinds shut, thinking about the beautiful girl one house away, with no idea that she was thinking about him as well.


	2. Under the Bridge

**Author's Note:** Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your reviews they were all great encouragement! And they all meant so much to me! Some of you mentioned the eating disorder and how some people play it off as nothing serious, I just want to reassure you that is not what I'm doing at all! I can't stand when books and shows just dismiss them and have the characters develop an ED and then cure them in one episode because that is so far from real life. Also, I know the first chapter and this one might be a little bit slow, but I wanted to introduce the characters and their situations in these chapters. Anyway, here is Chapter Two!

* * *

_I don't ever wanna feel,_

_Like I did that day._

_Take me to the place I love,_

_Take me all the way._

_--Under the Bridge by Red Hot Chili Peppers_

* * *

He just wanted to give up. He had tried to engage the girl in conversation for years and he was getting sick of trying. Whenever Troy Bolton tried to talk to Gabriella Montez, the exotic beauty always seemed uninterested in making any attempt at a conversation. And now she probably thought he was a stalker or something; the way he just magically appeared on her front lawn the second her black SUV pulled into the driveway and then questioning what her every move on Friday night would be. Troy sighed and ran his tanned fingers through his chestnut brown locks, maybe Gabriella was one of those girls who liked to be the chaser? That didn't make sense though, every other guy she had dated had pursued her first. Maybe she just flat out didn't like Troy? That didn't make much sense to him either, he had honestly never met a girl who didn't like him, even female teachers seemed to favor him.

Troy picked up the bright orange basketball he had abandoned in his driveway and dribbled it into the garage leaving it in a corner, safely away from the three cars parked inside. The ball was his lucky ball, it had been the ball he used at his first day of tryouts freshman year, the day when the sparkling blue eyed boy had been the first freshman to ever make the Varsity team. If any of his other balls were to get run over by one of his parents Mercedes or his own Audi, he wouldn't really care. Basketballs were in fact replaceable and he had plenty more. He credited his lucky ball with everything that went right in his life and if it were to get carelessly smashed under a strip of heavy black rubber he wasn't sure what he would do.

"Troy, is that you?" his mother called the second he pulled open the garage door.

"Yeah," Troy replied shortly, rolling his piercing eyes. Who else did she think it was?

The perfect figure stepped into the dining room and closed his blue eyes in disgust. His family was sitting down to home cooked meal on a Thursday night, but for some reason the dining room table looked like it belong inside a four-star restaurant. The cloth napkins were folded in some complicated origami shape Troy was pretty sure was supposed to resemble a duck. The light coming from the chandelier was dimmed and two gold tapered candles flickered on the table, a perfect eight inches apart.

"Hi dear," his mom said as she carried a plate of rotisserie chicken into the dining room. Elizabeth Bolton had on khaki capri pants, an emerald green Lacoste polo shirt, and her firey red hair was pulled back in a headband that matched both her shirt and eyes. She looked the part of the perfect basketball mom and homemaker she was. "Could you go tell Casey dinner is ready? I'll go get your father."

Troy nodded and paced through the kitchen wondering why they had to pretend they lived in 1953. Couldn't they just eat dinner at their well lit kitchen table like most normal twenty-first century American families? But that would probably ruin the air of Donna Reedesque perfection his mom liked to give to the world.

The boy stepped into the family room where a petite girl sat on the floor playing with two Barbie dolls while the Disney Channel played softly in the background. The girl had the same red hair and fair skin as their mother, but when she looked up it was clear she had been blessed with the same shocking blue eyes her older brother had inherited from their dad.

"Troy!" the small girl squealed, jumping up from her toys and running toward the older boy.

Troy smiled brightly at the seven year old girl hugging him, "Hey Case. Are you ready to eat?"

The girl nodded and laced her fair fingers through her brother's tan set and dragged him back in the direction he had just come from. "Today at lunchtime, Martha Elby took my cookies. I was so mad, they were the really good ones mommy made last night. The chocolate chip ones, with the extra chocolate chips! And do you want to know what she did when I told on her?"

Troy wore an amused expression as he gazed down at his energetic little sister, "Of course I do, Case."

"She lied!" Casey said, clearly outraged at the girl's choice of action. "But then Katherine Fairbanks told the cafeteria helper lady the truth because she saw it too. And guess what happened to Martha for lying!"

"What happened?" Troy asked as the kids sat down on opposite sides of the table.

"She couldn't go to recess!" Casey exclaimed, her eyes wide. Missing recess to an seven year old was like Troy's friend Sharpay Evans missing a party, the most devastating thing that could possibly happen to that person.

Troy chuckled, "Well she deserved it for taking your cookies and lying."

"Is she still going on about that damn story?" a man's voice asked. Troy looked up and saw his dad sliding into his chair at the head of the table. "It's just a couple cookies for God sake."

Troy looked across the table at his little sister and frowned. Casey was looking down at her plate avoiding everyone's eyes. He kicked her chair softly and she looked up at her older brother. Troy gave her a reassuring smile and she tried to reciprocate. Their father was a car dealer and owned three successful dealerships in Spring Lake Meadows. He was the perfect car salesman, even embodying the traits at home. Thomas Bolton was loud, pushy, self-centered, always right, and easily irritated if anyone tried to question him or his authority. Troy was the spitting image of his dad: chestnut brown hair, a golden tan, muscular--but not overly so--and of course their piercing blue eyes. They also shared a love for basketball, but all similarities between the men ended there.

"She was upset," Troy defended his younger sister. "You would probably come home and do the same thing if one your employees did that. In fact, you have come home complaining about them taking a pen from your office," Troy reminded his dad smugly.

Elizabeth Bolton's eyes shot up from the chicken she was carving and looked across the table to her husband, who looked ready to pounce. "Boys let's just eat dinner. We all came in on the wrong foot, just take a step back and restart," she interjected before Thomas had the chance to snap back at their son. The role of peacekeeper always seemed to fall on Elizabeth's shoulders, especially when emotions ran high in the house during basketball season.

Thomas nodded at his wife, "So Troy, is the team ready for the game tomorrow?"

"Casey, sweetie, pass me your plate and I'll cut your chicken for you," Elizabeth said, trying to distract the men of the family from what was sure to become a blowout. In any normal household, Thomas' question would have been out of sincere curiosity for his son's sports team. In the Bolton home however Thomas used basketball as tool to bully his son.

Troy took a bite of his chicken and nodded, "Yup. We're gonna kick Menendez's a... butt," he saved himself remembering his little sister across from him.

Thomas served himself broccoli from the serving dish in front of him. He then took a sip of the red wine in front of him and stared at his son, his piercing eyes drilling a hole in the side of the boys caramel colored head. "Menendez is a good team, are _you _ready for the game?"

Troy abruptly swallowed the food he was chewing and locked eyes with his dad. This was it. This was always it. "I'm the best player on the team, of course I'm ready."

Thomas laughed at his son, it wasn't a nice laugh it was more of a doubtful laugh. "We'll see about that son. You do know who was the first player to lead their team to a winning game against Menendez, right?"

The younger man closed his eyes, the sparkle somewhat dimmed from them. "Yeah dad. You."

Thomas nodded haughtily, "That's right son. And every year after that East High beat Menendez. Of course, none of the other captains led their teams with quite as big as a victory as I did. It would be ashame to be the first captain in twenty-five years to lose to Menendez."

"Well then it's a good thing we're not gonna lose," Troy said. He pushed his plate away from him, not hungry anymore.

"You'll never get quite as many points as me though, you're just not as good of a player," Thomas said lowly, trying to intimidate is son.

"Thomas!" Elizabeth snapped. Snapping was all she would do though, she would try to keep peace, say her husband's name in a warning tone, but that's all she would ever really do.

"It's the truth," Thomas said. "I just think it's best to be honest with our son. At least that way he knows what he's getting himself into."

Troy angrily pushed his chair back from the table and threw his napkin on his plate. "Dinner was good mom," he said storming off.

"Troy," his mom's voice called after him, "I made Lemon Pound Cake for dessert, your favorite," she pleaded with her sons retreating back.

The tan boy ignored his mother's pleas and stormed up the staircase hidden in the right hand corner of the kitchen. Un-fucking-believable. The night before the second biggest game of the year and his dad was cutting him down, not that Troy was really surprised. In fact he wasn't surprised at all. Cutting his son down was what Thomas Bolton did best, he was a great car salesman because he perfected his bullying techniques at home.

Thomas had been an all-star basketball player in high school, he was the best of the best until a knee injury senior year kept him from getting scouted for college. Without playing in college he was forced to kiss his dreams of NBA stardom goodbye. As a sophomore he was the youngest player in East High's history to make the Varsity team, that is until his son made Varsity as a freshman. When Troy had made the Varsity team, his dad insisted his son wasn't a better player than him, that wasn't possible, the kids trying out that year just really sucked. No matter what Troy did, how well he played, how hard he practiced, it still wasn't enough to beat his dad. It didn't matter that Troy was a thousand times the player his dad ever was, Thomas Bolton got a thrill out of making his son feel inferior.

He had always pushed Troy to be better than the other kids, even in Little League. 'Always be better than the next guy, Troy. Winning is everything.' Thomas would remind his son after practices and games. His mother would sigh from the passenger seat, but she would never say anything. When they got home from the games she would tell her son how proud she was and what a good player he was, but the compliments never matched his dad's intimidation and pushes to make Troy a better player.

Two years ago on November 24 was the day Troy Bolton couldn't take it anymore. Two years ago on November 24 was when sparkling blue locked on sparkling blue and Troy was pushed over the edge. It was the day of Troy Bolton's first Varsity basketball game, it was the day that would change his life forever, in more ways than one. It was the reason why Troy Bolton was so fucked up.

* * *

_The sweet smell of pancakes and bacon drifted up the stairs as Troy Bolton headed towards the kitchen for breakfast. He was dressed for school, ready to head to the bus stop as soon as breakfast was over. Bus rides were the plight of being a freshman, your oldest friends were still only 15 and no one had their drivers license yet. Five days a week, twice a day, innocent freshman were forced onto a yellow, metal contraption to get to school. It wasn't fair to torture innocent children on the way to six and a half more hours of torture, Troy always thought._

_Troy deposited his backpack on the last step and sat down at the oak wood kitchen table with the rest of his family. "Breakfast looks amazing mom," Troy said smiling at the red haired woman as he drowned the pancakes in front of him in syrup. In true Mrs. Bolton fashion, breakfast was always a family affair and no matter what day of the week, everyone sat down for a full breakfast together. Cereal bars on the go was unheard of in the Bolton household._

_"I put chocolate chips in the pancakes since it's such a special day," Elizabeth winked at her son._

_The guttural clearing of a throat came from behind the Spring Lake Meadows Times and suddenly the newspaper folded down to reveal Thomas Bolton. He stared at the pancakes on his son's plate and shook his head. "Pancakes, Troy?"_

_Troy looked down at his plate, "What's wrong with pancakes?" He mumbled through a mouthful of food. _

_Thomas raised his chestnut colored eyebrows at his son as if to say, 'You really don't know?' Instead, he said, "Nothing at all, son."_

_Troy focused on his dad for a second, trying to decide if anything else was going to be mentioned on the pancake subject before he took another bite. When his dad picked up the paper, Troy shrugged and took another bite of the pancakes, assuming they were safe to eat. _

_"Sugar, fat, that's going to slow you down tonight, make you weaker. More vulnerable," Thomas said from behind the newspaper. _

_Troy stopped chewing and looked at the black writing on gray paper hiding his dad. "What should I eat?"_

_His dad peered over the top of the paper and looked his son up and down. "Protein," he said simply. "Maybe some carbs, but not sugary carbs."_

_Troy nodded slowly and thought about what his mom usually packed him for lunch. A turkey sandwich, an apple, and whatever dessert she had baked that week. If he skipped the dessert that would be fine, right? Troy had never paid much attention to nutrition labels or in health class. He knew bread was a carb, but what foods contained protein? Meat had protein or did vegetables have protein? Now he couldn't remember. _

_"Troy, you're going to miss the bus," Elizabeth said, snapping her son out of his food curious daze._

_"Right!" Troy said, jumping up from the table and grabbing his backpack. "See you after school," he said kissing his mom and groggy five year old sister on the cheek._

_He heard the rustle of the newspaper as he headed toward the foyer, "Wait a second son. I'll walk you out," his dad's loud voice came from behind him._

_"What food should I eat to get carbs and protein?" Troy asked the older man as they walked through the house. _

_Thomas' eyes locked on his son's, bright blue on bright blue. "Look Troy," Thomas said as they stood in the foyer, Troy's hand on the front doorknob, "as hard as you try and as much as you want to be, you're not that good of a player. You're never going to be as good as your old man. I know you try son, but sometimes it just comes down to talent and you just don't have a whole lot. I know you want to eat the right thing to help your game, but eating a little extra bread and meat isn't gonna turn you into something you're not."_

_Troy's stomach felt like it was being stabbed with a million knives. He wanted to collapse to the ground as his bright blue eyes glistened with tears, but he couldn't cry. He wouldn't cry. He wasn't going to give his dad the satisfaction of knowing that he hurt his son. Troy pulled open the front door and ran towards the street, leaving his dad standing in the large doorway of the Tudor style home watching his son go. Troy couldn't breathe, he wasn't a good player? How the fuck wasn't he a good player. He was the first freshman to ever make the Varsity team, even his dad didn't have that to brag about. But, maybe his dad was right about what he had said when Troy first made the team, 'Damn, Varsity Troy. That's an embarrassment for the team, they must not have had a good turnout this year.'_

_Troy walked to the bus stop, hands in the pocket of his East High Basketball Team sweatshirt, pondering his options. He could always quit, but then he would have to live with his dad calling him a quitter that rest of his life and reminding him that only losers quit. Plus, being a freshman on Varsity got him girls and he wasn't about to give up that perk of the game. He could overload himself with carbs and protein. His dad had mentioned bread and meat, he could easily binge on those food groups at lunch and as an after school snack. But, if he overate that would just hurt his game, whenever he was full he couldn't run as well. _

_"Yo, Bolton!" a voice called from the intersection of Willow Tree Drive and Plantation Estates Boulevard, the main road in Troy's neighborhood. _

_Troy looked up from the cobblestone street and saw a black and chrome Ford F-150 sitting in the middle of the intersection. The driver's window was rolled down and in the seat was Jake Barrett, Jake was a senior this year and captain of the basketball team. In the passenger seat Troy saw a pretty blonde girl, Jake's on and off girlfriend. Troy was drawing a blank on the girl's name. "Hey Jake," Troy yelled back somewhat less enthusiastically than the older boy._

_"Where you headed, man?" Jake called._

_Troy pointed in the same direction Jake's car was headed, "The bus stop."_

_Troy heard Jake and his girlfriend laugh as he got closer. "Nah, just get in Bolton, I'll give you a ride."_

_Troy reached the truck and looked up at the older boy, "Really?"_

_Jake nodded, "The backseats a little small, but I'm not gonna make one of my boys take the bus to school. You're a Varsity player, Bolton. You play with the big boys, you can ride like the big boys."_

_Troy smiled gratefully at the boy and climbed in the backseat. Jake hadn't been lying when he said the back was small. Between the already cramped backseats pick-up trucks always had and the subs Jake had installed to make the car's base even louder, Troy could barely fit. But, when he thought about the rest of his class' faces when he pulled up to school with Jake and Jake's, the cramped space was worth it._

_"You ready for the game tonight, man?" Jake asked the younger boy. _

_Troy shrugged, "I guess, I'm kinda nervous," he admitted._

_Jake laughed and ran a hand through his dark blonde hair before reaching across the center console and locking hands with his girlfriend. Troy looked on jealously at the easy manner the older boy conducted himself in. Troy wished that he could have the same confidence about his game and girls that Jake seemed to have. "Don't worry about it. You'll be fine. I can give you a little help if you want," Jake offered._

_His girlfriend's eyes darted from the windshield she had been staring out to her boyfriends face. "Jake," she sighed, "he's what, fourteen?"_

_Troy eyed the couple curiously. What had Jake meant when he said that he could give Troy a little help if he wanted? From his girlfriends reaction it didn't really sound like he was going to give Troy any pointers on free throws or something of that nature._

_"Who cares Amanda, he's a Varsity player. He can handle himself," Jake said to his girlfriend. "It's not your problem okay? And little man can say no if he wants."_

_Amanda rolled her eyes at her boyfriend, "Okay sure he can. Cause you did when you were a year older than him."_

_Jake ignored his girlfriend and glanced at Troy in his rearview mirror. "Troy, what do you say? Want me to give you a hand?"_

_Troy glanced at Amanda, whose pretty features were looking Troy up and down. "What kind of help?"_

_Jake laughed, "Of the uh... herbal kind. And if you're interested in the performance enhancer kind too."_

_"You mean steroids?" Troy asked, wondering what exactly went on when the coach wasn't looking._

_Jake shook his head as the F-150 approached the student parking lot. "No man, that shit will fuck you up. Are you up for skipping first with me so I can show you what I'm talking about?"_

_Troy thought for a second. He had biology first period. It was his worst subject and the only time of the day besides lunch he saw Gabriella. On the other hand he had one of the most popular kids in school offering to give him help with his game. He could skip one day of learning about the different stages of mitosis if it meant he wouldn't embarrass himself at the game tonight._

_"Yeah, I'm game," Troy said somewhat nervously. _

_Jake grinned in his rearview mirror, "Bye baby," he said to Amanda. "I'll see you at lunch. Bolton move up front."_

_"Whatever, Jake," the girl responded as she jumped out of the car. "Be careful, okay?" she said to Troy as Troy climbed into the seat she had just left._

_"Alright, man. We're just gonna drive back to baseball fields. No one goes back there during the day so we'll be clear to just chill," Jake said. He pulled out of the student parking lot and made a right, going past the school. He then pulled into a dirt parking lot less than two minutes later at the fields and put his truck in park. "You ever smoke weed before?"_

_Troy shook his head, as Jake leaned over him and started digging through the glove box. He pulled his hand out and with it came a small Ziploc bag of what Troy thought looked like oregano, but he assumed was pot, and a Zippo lighter. "I thought weed makes you slow and just relax?" Troy asked the older boy._

_"It does," replied Jake, now drilling two holes in an old Sprite can with his car key. "This will help take the edge off your nerves. Smoke a little bit of this stuff the morning of a big game and you won't be worried about how you'll play at all. It'll wear off by the end of the day, if that. And as soon as it wears off, I have something for you that'll up your game just a little bit."_

_Troy looked nervously as the older boy pulled the foul smelling plant out of the baggie and placed a little bit over one of the holes he had made. Troy watched carefully as Jake put his mouth over the real mouthpiece and lit the plant on fire, inhaling the from the can. "It's good shit, Troy," Jake said. "You up for trying a little?"_

_Troy nodded somewhat hesitantly. "Sure."_

_Jake passed the boy the Sprite can, "Sorry your first time is gonna be out of this piece of shit. I can't find my pipe. Now what you want to do is cover the hole on the bottom of the can with your thumb, can you find it?" He waited for the boy to give him a nod before moving on to the next direction. "Okay, now put your mouth on the mouth hole. I'm gonna light it for you since it's your first time, all you have to do is inhale. You good?" _

_Troy nodded again and watched as the lighter flickered and Jake lit the pot for him. He followed his instructions to inhale and repeated the process of few times. "Woah," said Troy, when the boys finished the weed._

_Jake laughed, "How you feeling?" _

_How was he feeling? "Great!" Troy responded, and it was the truth. His dad's comments seemed to vanish from his mind for the first time in his whole life. All he could think about was the feeling he had, he felt like he was floating on a cloud, a magical cloud where nothing would ever go wrong. "So this is what being high feels like?"_

_Jake laughed at the younger boys naiveté, "Pretty fucking awesome, huh? If you like this you'll love what I'm about to give you." He reached into the center console and pulled out another plastic bag, instead of weed, the bag was filled with little white and blue pills. "You know what Adderall is?"_

_"That ADD medicine?" Troy asked._

_"Yeah, except I don't use it for ADD. It's an amphetamine and gives you just a little extra energy to play. It's a lifesaver, you have a little more endurance and a little more stamina. It'll bring out your best game. You interested?"_

_Troy nodded eagerly, it seemed like his questions from earlier had been answered. He could finally show his dad that he was a good player, that Troy Bolton was just as good as Thomas Bolton. _

_"I'm just gonna give you one, if you like I'll get you more, no problem. Take it around three o'clock, it takes about an hour to kick in and that way you have a few hours to get used of the feeling before we play. It's 50 mg and it'll last for about twelve hours. Sometimes you can't sleep when you're on them either, so don't be surprised if you don't crash until three A.M."_

_Troy looked at small pill Jake handed him as the boys drove back to the student parking lot. He tucked it safely in his front right pocket, knowing exactly where it would be for later. As the boys walked up to the building together, just in time for second period, Troy had no idea what the drugs he had just accepted were going to do to him._

* * *

**Author's Note 2: **Okay so I know I said yesterday that Gabriella would be in this chapter as well, but when I reread it just before I posted I decided she really just didn't fit. I wanted this chapter to really introduce Troy's problems and show the seriousness and roots of them. These last two chapters were very introductory and I promise they'll get more exciting starting next chapter! I'm also putting up a little umbrella so the tomatoes you are probably about to throw to do too much damage now that you all know that Troy has a drug problem. Thank you all for reading it and I hope you have as much fun reading my work as I do writing it!


	3. Pieces

**Author's Note: **I'm glad you all seem to be happy with where the stories headed and once again thank you all so much for your reviews! As a writer reviews and criticism really helps me see where I need to improve and what I should just leave the same! I hope this chapter helps bring more insight to both of the characters and their struggles and also how their struggles will _eventually_intertwine.

* * *

_I tried to be perfect,_

_It just wasn't worth it_

_Nothing could ever be so wrong._

_It's hard to believe me,_

_It never gets easy,_

_I guess I knew that all along._

_--Pieces by Sum 41_

* * *

Gabriella Montez was working hard to keep her gaze directly in front of her. If she looked to her left she would see her track friend Riley Donovan sprinting in her lululemon black yoga pants and bright green Nike sports bra. The last thing Gabriella wanted to see at six-thirty in the morning was Riley's flat abs and thin legs running alongside of her. On her right was a petite old lady with white hair and a soft smile. The woman was power walking on the treadmill and Gabriella was pretty sure that she was so frail one wrong move on the machine and multiple bones inside her would crack.

The thin, olive toned girl focused on the red wall in front of her, feeling like she was boxed in. This was why she preferred to run outside, she felt so much more open and free. As long as she ran faster than every other girl, she didn't have to watch as their perfect bodies moved gracefully around the track or through the course during cross country season. In the gym she was surrounded, surrounded by judging faces and stale air. And at least outside she wasn't sweating her ass off in fleece sweatpants and her East High Ladies XC sweatshirt. Outside if she stayed far enough ahead of the other runners she was fine wearing shorts and a t-shirt, sure they would judge her if they saw her legs, but only if they could catch up to her. In the gym everyone could see her, whether they were lifting weights or on an elliptical machine, there was no place to hide.

Her feet pounded on the treadmill in front of her, she only had one mile left. One mile, she could make it, she always did. She was dripping in sweat, the heavy clothes she was wearing only making it worse, but she didn't care. Sweating was an like a badge of honor she wore proudly. The sweat was a symbol of how hard she was working, the sweat was proof that she was better than the girl behind her. It showed how hard she was willing to push herself, to be the best. It was always about being the best to Gabriella, the best daughter, the best friend, the best in the class, the best runner, the best looking. Gabriella worked so hard to be the best at everything she did and in her eyes it seemed like no matter how hard she tried to be the best and to be perfect she always fell a few steps behind.

Three-tenths of a mile to go. Gabriella kicked up the speed on her treadmill and sprinted towards the finish. That was another thing she hated about running inside, when she ran outside there was some physical location that proved she had crossed over from racing to the finish, inside the only proof were the numbers on the treadmill's screen staring at up at her.

"Finished!" she panted as the numbers ticked up and she smiled triumphantly. Unlike the scale, the higher the number on the treadmill was, the bigger the victory. She let her eyes quickly glance to her left and she noticed Riley walking slowly along the treadmill, already finished with her workout. She hated the easy confidence that Riley had as she inhaled and exhaled, showing the world her bare, toned stomach. Gabriella couldn't imagine what it would take for her to do something like that. Even before her diet and she had realized how much weight she needed to lose, she had always been shy. She wasn't the type of girl who liked to expose to much skin outside of wearing a bathing suit to Mickler's Lake.

"Damn girl," Riley said laughing, "I don't know how you do it. I've been walking for ten minutes and I was just doing sprints. And please tell me how you are wearing sweats. It's like a furnace in here."

Gabriella shrugged and let her midnight colored curls out of the messy bun on top of her head. Someone who ran the way Gabriella did would never be able to make someone who didn't hold the same exact passion understand why she ran the way she did. Some people liked running and some people had a passion for running, but for Gabriella it was different. Gabriella lived and breathed to feel her legs pump up and down and her mind push her to take just one more step. She lived for the challenge of forcing herself to always be stronger than her opponents, even when her opponent was herself. Running was something that Gabriella had complete control over, unlike her home's interior design, her dad's workaholic tendencies, Troy's inability to notice her, or her reflection in the mirror. When Gabriella ran she felt like she was flying, it wasn't a difficult task or a dreaded one, it just was. Running was a part of Gabriella, without it she wouldn't know who she was.

"Are you ready to get out of here?" Gabriella asked her friend after walking slowly for few minutes.

"I thought you were never going to ask," Riley responded. The girls both hit the bright red stop button in the center of the machines and climbed off. After they cleaned off their machines, they walked towards the locker room on the other side of the gym past the weights and rows of stationary bikes. "Thanks for running inside with me," Riley said to her friend.

"You're welcome," she said. "I have to run outside tomorrow though." There were only so many days she could run on a strip of moving rubber and say that she was really running. As much as people liked to pretend, running on a treadmill was never going to be able to give her the feeling she craved. She couldn't ever seem to escape from her own thoughts when she ran inside and there was no way could run on a treadmill more than every other day without losing her mind.

Riley blinked her light green eyes and shook her head, making small beads of sweat fly out of her dark brown hair, "You're officially crazy."

Gabriella laughed and let a sweet soft melody escape from her throat, "Maybe I am," she said sincerely. "Are you going to the game tonight?"

Riley nodded, "Of course I am!" Riley reacted with the same bewildered tone Gabriella had used when Troy had asked her if she was going. At East High it was just expected that you were going to go to every basketball game, asking was more of just a formality to make conversation. "I know you're probably going with Taylor and the rest of your friends, but we should meet up there or something."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Gabriella agreed, pushing open the heavy metal door that read: Women's Lockers.

"Is this going to be the year you can finally wear the practice jersey with the number fourteen on it to the games?" Riley teased her friend as she unlocked the third locker in the second bay.

Gabriella rolled her dark eyes and shot a dirty look at her friend as she opened the locker next to Riley's. Riley Donovan and Gabriella Montez weren't exactly best friends, but Riley knew more about Gabriella than some of her closest friends did. The girls had been running together since sixth grade when they met on the Spring Lake Meadows Middle School Cross Country Team. Sports teams became something like a family to the members of the team, sure her best friends weren't on the team, but the Track team had become like her family. Her dad had remarried the spring before and she had complained about her new step mother to Riley and the other girls over long runs. When Riley's own father remarried that winter the girls had bonded over a hate for their step moms. Even though Riley wasn't her best friend, the two girls had been through so much together and Gabriella knew she could trust the brunette with anything. Which is why she knew about Gabriella's feelings for Troy and the fact Gabriella's brain seemed to turn to mush whenever he was around.

"Maybe if I could learn how to speak around him," Gabriella told her friend.

Riley laughed and grabbed her shower kit from her locker. "It's still really early. We should have time to hit Mama G's for breakfast if we shower fast," Riley suggested. "And I'm starving, after all that sprinting I could seriously go for a massive omelette or something."

Gabriella winced at the thought. An omelette did sound amazing. She stared into her locker contemplating her options, she could go out to breakfast with Riley and then while they were waiting for the check slip to the bathroom, lean over one of the porcelain bowls, and stick her right index and middle fingers down her throat to bring up all of the calories she had consumed. But she was already planning on doing that tonight at Barefoot after the game. "No, I haven't been feeling well," Gabriella lied. "I would probably just end up throwing the eggs up or something," Gabriella finished, this time not even lying.

Riley sighed and narrowed her grass colored eyes at her friend, "You'll be fine, you just did all that running and didn't get sick. We can talk more about Troy," Riley giggled at her last offer.

Gabriella shook her head and slammed her locker door shut. "Thanks, but I really don't feel well. I might try to nap before school or something."

"Suit yourself," Riley said as she headed toward the shower.

The blacked haired girl picked up her purple lululemon gym bag and headed towards the exit. The worst part about being on a diet was the sacrifices she always made in her social life to avoid her so called 'temptations.' Her whole life revolved around food and planning each and every bite she took and didn't take, there was only so much will power one girl possessed to always say no when greasy, fried food was staring her in the face.

* * *

The squeak of rubber soles on the shiny wooden floor accompanied by the dribbling of an orange sphere was enough to drive anyone insane. Not Troy Bolton though, the squeaking of the basketball shoes as the boy ran across the gym bouncing an orange ball up and down was his theme song. The gym reeked of sweat, but Troy felt the smell was the sweet smell of success, proof that the East High Wildcats were better than any team coming to play them. Basketball practices were a high for Troy, it wasn't the synthetic high that he got from smoking or popping Adderall, but a real high. The kind of high that made him feel like he really meant something in the world.

Games were a different story though. Add the screaming fans into the song of Troy's life and suddenly it felt as if the disc had been scratched. With thousands of eyes on Troy, the golden boy, the pressure was unbearable. Men who had played alongside of his father saw a reincarnation of their old captain on the court and women who had cheered for the Wildcats many moons ago saw the boy their hearts had swooned over. After the game they would come up to him and say how well he played, 'Just like your father,' voice after voice would echo in his ear. That wasn't all that bothered him. What bothered him the most was the way his classmates treated him, or rather how he feared they would treat him if he made a mistake. East High's current student body saw Troy like a God. They saw a beautiful, tan, Greek-God like figure as he scored basket after basket.

Troy knew that he had a good personality and all of that crap. He was funny and outgoing towards everyone but the girl of his dreams, he was nice, and even though people didn't expect a jock to have straight-A's, or take AP classes, Troy did. It was part of his perfect mask. His father had taught him it was important to be perfect on the court and his mother, with her 1950's perfect housewife role had taught him it was important to be perfect off the court. Combine the perfection on the court with his winning personality and Troy was the most popular boy in school. Troy pretended that being popular was just a thing, that it didn't really matter to him, but that was just part of his mask. To the blue eyed boy his reputation was more than important, it defined him. Without basketball stardom to make him stand out, Troy would just be another popular kid. Sure, he would be liked, but without basketball to set him apart, he would fall into second place, behind someone else. And coming in second best, wasn't okay with Troy, because being perfect meant being the best.

A whistle tweeted as Jason Cross shot a final basket and the orange globe twirled around the rim of the hoop, before finally swooshing into the net below. The sweaty, tired boys jogged over to their coach and water bottles and took a knee. Half of the boys were in red and the other half in white, their scrimmage uniforms. "Alright boys," their coach said. He was a tall man, with graying hair and a slightly protruding gut. Coach Lyons had been a great player in his day, but age and multiple knee and shoulder surgeries had caught up to him. He was still a great coach though, he loved the Wildcats as much as he did his own family and he vowed that the year the team didn't make it to states was the year he would step down. "Tonight's the first game of the season. I usually try to scare you a little bit the morning of the first game, but this year I don't think I have to. Most years you're all so riled up I need to make you nervous to get you to focus, but then again we've never had a captain like Bolton before. Thanks to his lead you're all cockier than ever, but you also play better than ever."

"Yeah Troy," a dark skinned boy with tight ringlets cheered, slapping his blue eyed best friend on the back.

Coach Lyons smiled down at his players, "I know Troy's made you guys work even harder than last year, organizing runs and scrimmages on weekends. That's what a true leader is. You boys are more ready than any team I've ever had. And I know none of you, especially you Mr. Bolton, are gonna let me down at tonight's game."

The players clapped for Troy and their eyes all flew to him. He gulped nervously and took a swig of blue Gatorade that matched his eyes from the bottle in front of him. He looked at the fifteen pairs of eyes on him anxiously and smiled confidently. "And we're gonna kick some Menendez ass tonight!" Troy yelled, not feeling half as confident as he sounded. "We've got the best team we've had in years, this year we're gonna have an undefeated season!"

The rest of the team cheered and clapped at their leaders proclamation and Troy nodded his head at his friends and teammates. He wasn't going to let his boys down, he couldn't. He was going to make sure the East High Wildcats had a season to remember, whatever it took.

"What team?" the ringlet haired boy yelled, his voice echoing off of the bleachers.

"Wildcats!" his teammates yelled back enthusiastically. The boys man-hugged each other and laughed as they headed towards the locker room to shower before the school day started.

"Bolton!" the gray haired coach yelled out to his captain. "Meet me in my office before you hit the showers!"

Troy sighed and stepped into the small wooden doorway next to the heavy metal door that led to the boy's locker room. Troy really wanted to study for his Calculus test before the bell for first period rang and Coach Lyons was the type of man whose speeches could gone on for hours if no one stopped him. The gray haired man stepped into the office and shut the wooden door behind him, "Well take a seat, son," the older man gestured to the uncomfortable looking plastic chair in front of his desk as he sat in the leather reclining one behind it.

Troy sat down and gazed around the small office. It was an ode to East High, everything in the cramped room was red and white while newspaper clippings about the basketball team and team photos from over the years hung on the walls. Coach Lyons had been coaching at East High for thirty years. Troy was the second piercing blue eyed Bolton Coach Lyons had coached.

"How are you feeling about the big game tonight?" Coach Lyons asked the younger man. "You think you're gonna lead the Wildcats to victory?"

"Course coach," Troy said confidently to the gray haired man. "We've got a kick ass team, I'm a kick ass player, we're good." Troy smiled defiantly at his coach.

Coach Lyons shook his head and sighed, "You know who said those same exact words to me before they beat Menendez?"

Troy shut his brilliant eyes and ran his right hand anxiously over his chestnut colored locks. He had heard the story told a million times before by a different man. The man whose eyes matched the color of his own, the man who Troy inherited his looks and talent on the basketball court from. "My dad," he said shortly.

"That's right son. When I asked him the same exact question I just asked you he gave me the same exact answer you just gave me. And you know what, I didn't think it was gonna happen. We had never beaten Menendez, but that year we did. The first time we beat Menendez was all thanks to your old man," Coach Lyons told the boy. "I have something I want you to see."

Troy wasn't really interested in anything Coach Lyons had show him. All he wanted to do was get out of the small office that seemed to be shrinking by second, the pictures of the basketball greats before him felt like they were going to choke him to death. He needed air.

Coach Lyons slid a yellowed newspaper clipping across his desk to the boy and Troy peered down at it. With a quick glimpse at the black and white photo on the page one might mistake the boy riding on his teammates shoulders for Troy, Troy knew better though. The man in the picture had a slightly less chiseled jaw and a slightly crooked nose. The man in the clippings lips weren't as soft or as perfectly shaped as his look-alikes were, and his eyes were different. His eyes were harsher. His eyes stared at the camera with a defiant gaze that told the world how much better than everyone he thought he was. The boy sitting in the office had never looked at anyone like that before. Other than those few differences, the people in the picture may have the same person and to someone who didn't know better they might think they were.

"This is your dad after the first Menendez win. I had never been so proud of a team in my life. Those boys beat Menendez seventy-two to fifty-three with your dad leading them to it. Your dad was the best player I've ever coached," Coach Lyons said.

Troy nodded but didn't say anything to his gray haired coach. He knew his dad was a good player, he heard it from everyone, constantly being compared to his dad's greatness. Some people said Thomas was a better player, some people said Troy was, everyone always agreed that both men were two of the greatest players East High had ever seen.

"Have you seen this?" Coach Lyons asked shoving today's sports section from the Spring Lake Meadows Times towards the boy.

"No," Troy choked out. On the first page of the section there was an entire article dedicated to his families legacy in basketball, his father's biggest win twenty-five years ago, and of course speculation on whether or not Troy would carry his team to victory.

"Now I don't want you to read it, some of the speculation is just going to make you more nervous," the older man said snatching the thin black and white paper back from the boy. "I just wanted to show it to you so you could see what a big deal tonight is. You're just as good of a player as your dad Troy if not better. And I'm gonna tell you a secret none of the articles you'll read about that game will tell you. Your dad was a good player, but he was a terrible leader. If he had been able to inspire his team the way you do their win would've been double what it was."

"Thanks Coach," the boy mumbled.

Coach Lyons nodded his gray head at the boy, "Which is why I'm expecting an even bigger win out of you boys tonight!" the coach finished smiling brightly down at the anxious sixteen year old.

"Course Coach," Troy mumbled, his heart pounding.

"Alright, son, go shower up. And don't disappoint me tonight, you've got a lot of people counting on you," Coach Lyons said, gesturing towards the door.

Troy stood up and walked out the door without another word. He could barely hear his own thoughts, 'Don't disappoint me tonight,' was playing over and over again in his mind. Troy hated letting people down, especially people that thought so highly of him. He ignored his teammates chatter as he headed towards the showers. As he washed his caramel locks and magazine cover worthy abs all he could think about was his coach's warnings.

After he got dressed for the day in his red and white warm up suit, a game day requirement for first string Varsity players, Troy glanced at the silver and black Nixon watch on his left hand. He still had half an hour until the bell rang for first period. He could use that half an hour to study for the Calculus test he had second period, but he knew he was fairly ready. He also knew that there was no way in hell he was going to be able to focus on limits and functions after his coach's pep talk. So, he chose his other option. "I'll see you guys in class, I gotta head out to do something before school starts," he said to his friends.

They nodded at their friend and high fived him as their captain left the locker room through the exit to the student parking lot. Troy briskly cut through the parking lot, only slowing down when he noticed Gabriella's giant black Escalade, that she always seemed so small driving, pull into the asphalt parking lot. When he reached his dark blue Audi he shoved the key into the ignition, the engine roaring to life. He needed to relax or he wasn't going to be able to think about anything but basketball and the game. The black rubber tires sped out of the parking lot and towards the baseball fields Jake Barrett had introduced him to two years earlier. When Troy reached the familiar dirt parking lot he put the gearshift on the giant P and rummaged through his glove box until he found the objects he was searching for.

The first time he had inhaled the fumes from the sweet leaf and later that day swallowed a little blue and white tablet, he had done so out of a need to impress the senior offering it to him and the willingness to do anything to make sure he played a good game. After the game and the compliments started pouring in from everyone, comparing him to his father if they were over 30 and his classmates worshipping, he realized that he never wanted to have an off game. An off game would mean that he wasn't a good player, he wasn't as good as his dad. An off game would mean that he had let his team down, his school down, and his friends down. Troy would do whatever it took to feel as perfect and as holy as he did after that first game.

The blue eyed boy was far from perfect, but as long as no one found out, he would still be their golden boy and hero.

* * *

**Author's Note 2: **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I was torn between this version of the chapter and another version and after some great/really helpful input I chose this one. The other version had T/G interaction, but I decided it was more important to give you all insight into the characters minds and develop them a little more before I started to build on their relationship. I hope everyone is happy with my choice for this chapter because I really feel like it was the one that worked best for the story. Also, I know I've been updating every day so far, but I was home sick all weekend and stayed home sick from school today so I've had plenty of time to post/write/edit. From the next chapter on the update schedule will probably be more like every other day.


	4. Innocent

**Author's Note: **First off all I am so sorry for not posting yesterday like I promised. I hate breaking my word and I'm so sorry I did, I was swamped with makeup work from being out sick and practice ran late and it was just a really bad night. The chapter was typed, but I like to reread things twice before I post and I just didn't have time last night. Second of all, a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed, they are all so wonderful! Reviews inspire and help me so much and I just love reading them! And third of all, I'm super nervous about this chapter, I know some of you aren't going to like certain things, but I promise it all serves a purpose and I know where it's going! Enjoy!

* * *

_I remember feeling low,_

_I remember losing hope,_

_I remember all the feelings._

_--Innocent by Our Lady Peace_

* * *

It was almost over. It was obvious from the screaming, on edge crowd. No one was still sitting in their seats. Who could? With this much time left in the game the pressure was on. The body paint students had layered on their stomachs and faces before the game was beginning to chip off revealing flecks of their original skin tones. The fans were as sweaty and as tired as the men on the court, but they were still screaming.

Troy Bolton looked up at the clock above scoreboard, trying to ignore the fans cries. There were only two minutes left in the game. The Wildcats were up sixty-eight to fifty-four. For anyone else sporting red and white apparel or body paint, the score was fine. Hell, the score was perfect. The Wildcats were on their way to winning their first game of the season, this was all any of the fans could ever ask for. Troy, however, was pissed. There was no way in hell Troy was walking out of this gym with less than seventy-four points on the scoreboard. If the Wildcats won with less than that, Troy would have failed everyone. His dad, the fans, his school, Coach Lyons, himself, and most importantly his team. If the Wildcats didn't make it to seventy-four points, he was letting down the boys he considered his brothers. If they didn't make it to seventy-four points, the boys weren't going down in history.

He flicked his perfectly sculpted head back, making tiny droplets of sweat fly out of his chestnut locks and squinted his blue eyes at his enemies draped in black and gold. His normally sparkling blue eyes were venomous, hungry, Troy had come to win and he wasn't leaving this gym a loser.

The mess of boys sprinted towards the visitor's end of the court, the soles of the basketball shoes squeaking like mice hungry for cheese. All of the boys were hungry, were hungry for victory. Every drenched boy standing on the shiny wooden floor had come for blood. Troy scanned the court with his cerulean eyes, trying to decide if he was in the perfect position. Jason Cross was dribbling the orange globe with his right hand, a black and gold opponent hovering over his shoulder.

"Jason!" Troy shouted from across the court. The bronze skinned boy was open. If his friend could get him the ball Troy knew he would be able to make the three point worthy shot. If he made the shot they would only have three points until complete and utter victory. Their victory wouldn't just over the other team, it would be a victory over any doubts anyone had ever on who was the better Bolton. It would be a victory over every Wildcat to come before. It would be a victory over every basketball team that had ever walked through the doors of East High. This wasn't just a victory. This was the victory. But first, the Wildcats need six more points on the board.

Time seemed to freeze as the fair skinned brunette boy launched the ball at his captain from the other side of the court. The black and gold adorned team sprinted towards player number fourteen as the boy's muscular legs bent and his strong calves shot him up in the air. He knew they were coming towards him, but he couldn't see them. It was as if only Troy and the basket were on the court. His tanned and toned biceps flexed as he released the ball and it went soaring through the air. He couldn't hear anything other than his own heartbeat as the pumpkin colored sphere circled the metal rim once, then twice, and slowly fell into the white net. The red and white plastered side of the gym erupted in screams as the buzzer sounded.

Troy froze at the screeching bell. His blue eyes glanced up at the clock and saw the numbers of death staring him in the face. The clock read zero. Zero minutes and zero seconds left in the game. The scoreboard reflected a Wildcat win, and to everyone but Troy it felt like one. The newspapers would record the score of seventy-one to fifty-four in their articles, they would mention his impressive final basket, but none of this mattered to the beautiful boy staring at the scoreboard. His team began to swarm their captain, his last shot was one for the record books, but all Troy could think about was the evil digits staring him in the face. The Wildcats had only scored seventy-one points.

The angelic body glided slowly off the court, ignoring his teammates cheers and fans congratulations. The happy team stared at their captain as he walked away from the celebration, scrunching the brows in confusion. Troy had just shot the most impressive basket anyone had ever made in that gym, but Troy was acting as if the team had lost. Troy hadn't even registered how amazing his last basket was, all he could think about was the three digits lacking from the final score.

Troy slammed open the locker room door and sunk to the floor. He hadn't cried since he was four and when he fell of his bike and broke his wrist. 'Boys don't cry Troy,' Thomas had told his sobbing son over and over on the way to hospital. Normally, the Adderall pumping through his veins would have given him confidence, made his mood a little bit brighter after a rough game. Not tonight though. Tonight the beautiful boy fell to the locker room floor and let a few tears escape from his haunted blue eyes.

* * *

"You all played amazing!" Gabriella squealed to her guy friends as her and Taylor squeezed into the crowded table in the center of Barefoot Grille. The dark restaurant was owned by an East High alumnus and was practically a shrine to the school. On all of the walls were framed photos of the various sports teams at the school and framed newspaper articles highlighting wins and profiling star athletes. Wildcat pennants and posters displaying this year's star players were on display for all of the patrons to see. It was somewhat of a dive though, the red paint was beginning to chip off the walls in some places and the service sucked. But, despite its flaws, Barefoot Grille hosted the perfect laidback atmosphere the teenagers craved and the prices were right considering the quality of most of the meals.

Ninety percent of East High's student body had invaded the restaurant and most of the teens were standing in clusters, unable to find an open chair anywhere. The only open seat was at the round center, table, prime seating. No one had actually ever reserved the table, but it was an unspoken rule that the best basketball players that season and their friends got that table. Sitting there this year was Jason Cross and his shy girlfriend Kelsi Nielsen, curly haired Chad Danforth and his girlfriend Taylor McKessie, Zeke Baylor and his ice princess girlfriend Sharpay Evans, Sharpay's twin brother Ryan Evans, and of course Gabriella Montez and their superstar, Troy Bolton. There was always one open seat for the rare occasion one of the single members of the group brought a date or fling along for the night.

"Thanks Gab! And now it's time to celebrate," Chad said mischievously as he pulled a Dasani bottle out of one of the deep pockets in his shorts.

"We're celebrating with water?" Jason asked as his curly haired friend poured the clear liquid into his Coke.

The rest of the table sighed and rolled their eyes at their slow friend. "It's vodka," Kelsi whispered to her boyfriend, her soft brown eyes showing nothing but affection.

"Oh hell yeah! Pass it over here man," Jason said when he realized the bottle was merely a disguise.

Their waitress came up to the crowed circular table and deposited various dishes around the table. The rest of the gang had ordered appetizers before Taylor and Gabriella arrived, it was their tradition, always spilt a bunch of different appetizers. Jason continued pouring the strong substance into his Dr. Pepper filled cup. Normally his friends would have told him to stop, but they all sort of knew the weary blonde girl delivering their food. It was Melissa Something or Other, she was a student at the local university. She had been a senior when the teenagers she was now serving were freshman, she was also best friends with Amanda Roberts, Jake Barrett's high school sweetheart. Melissa had sat at the same table only two years ago, spiking her drink in the same indiscreet manner her customers were doing now.

"Congrats guys, I heard y'all played great," she said with a slight southern twang.

She walked away from the table squeezing Troy's shoulder gently as she passed him. The first time Troy had spoken to her had been two years ago after Troy's first ever Varsity basketball game against Menendez, the same team the boys had defeated earlier that evening. He had done more than talk to her at the after party, his first real party. Normally Troy would have nodded her way or at least acknowledge he knew the girl existed, but not tonight. He had barely spoken to anyone since they arrived at the restaurant and he planned on keeping it that way. The only reason he had even bothered to show up was because he had too. Not going to Barefoot after a game was social suicide, anyone who mattered at East High was there.

Gabriella looked nervously at the food that had just been placed on the table, suddenly ravenous. Her chocolate colored eyes scanned the assortment of dishes trying to decide on what she wanted first. She always had to remember the first thing she swallowed. If she remembered what she ate first, she would be able to tell when all of the toxic remnants had been flushed out of her body by her own two fingers. Gabriella's eyes landed on the blue corn chips and queso sauce that had been placed on the circular table between Taylor and Chad. The blue was bright, distinguisable, it would be easy to tell when the chips were out of her system, they were perfect.

"Tay, could you put a couple chips on my plate?" Gabriella asked her dark skinned friend, holding out her plate.

The girl nodded and dumped a handful of chips onto the tan dish. Gabriella smiled at her friend in thanks and surveyed the rest of the food, not really caring what she was going to be consuming. It was during these binges that overtook her, that Gabriella felt as if she had lost complete control over herself and her body. Her thin finger loaded fries and chicken wings onto the plate, trying to convince herself her friends weren't all staring at her. As soon as she took the first bite, her friends disappeared. Their chattered was drowned out, the only thing that mattered was putting food into her perfectly shaped lips.

It was during these binges that Gabriella hated herself. She hated the way she felt so anti-social as she stuffed her face while her friends took smaller bites and spoke between tastes. She couldn't help it though, when she took the first bite of the meal she had planned to binge on a barbaric instinct overtook her. There was nothing she could do except thrust more and more food into her mouth as if she had never eaten before. She could barely even taste the food she was swallowing, there was no difference between a French Fry and a mini-burger. Her jet black hair shielded her face as she chewed, the less people that noticed her eating the better. If they couldn't see her they wouldn't be able to judge her food choices when in her mind it was clear what she needed wasn't food, but to be on a diet.

"Woah hungry much Gabs?" Ryan asked as his pale fingers reached for the same chicken finger as Gabriella's.

The table teetered with what they thought was harmless laughter, but Gabriella was convinced they were laughing at her fat. She knew that they were wondering why their obese friend was shoving empty calorie after empty calorie inside her mouth. She couldn't stop though, not yet. It was like Newton's First Law of Motion: an object in motion will remain in motion until something gets in its way. She couldn't stop until her stomach rebelled.

"I haven't eaten today," she lied through a mouthful of fried, greasy food. The thin, tanned fingers reached out to grab a jalapeno popper from the dish beside her when suddenly her stomach began to churn. She stuck the popper in her mouth anyway and forced her teeth to chew it, her stomach was begging her not to swallow, but she had too. As soon as the breaded pepper began to slide down her throat she knew she was finished. Her stomach felt like it was ready to burst, her whole body felt like it had swelled to three times its normal size. "I have to pee," she announced to the table, jumping up and rushing towards the back right corner of Barefoot Grille where the restrooms were located.

She hurried through the spirited restaurant ignoring Riley's calls as she brushed passed her table and pushed open the red wood door labeled Ladies Room. There were only two other girls in the bathroom, one was crying and the other was comforting her friend, telling her how stupid boys were. Gabriella vaguely recognized the girls as freshmen and remembered they were JV cheerleaders. Another time Gabriella might have giggled at the cliché, but not now. Right now her chocolate eyes looked straight ahead, determined. She was on a mission.

Normally Gabriella would have cared that other people were in the restroom when she was about to throw up, but she knew freshmen girls. They were probably too wrapped up in their own problems to even notice the older girl. Just in case they did notice what the supposed to be perfect junior was doing, Gabriella chose the stall farthest away from the younger girls and rushed towards it. Slamming and locking the door with fumbling fingers Gabriella turned around and hunched over the dirty porcelain bowl. She hated this part. With the rhythm and grace of a seasoned expert Gabriella took her right index finger and middle finger and shoved the pink polished tips into her mouth, slowly guiding them towards the back of her throat. She led her hand back as far as it would go and all of the sudden bile began to rush back up her esophagus. She could see the remains of the food she had just ingested lying in the water before her. There was no sign of blue corn chips so she closed her watery eyes, the normally white outline bloodshot and repeated the action. It was always harder the second or third time, there was less food in her stomach to bring up, her fingers always had to linger at the back of her throat a second longer, moving them gently around to help stir her stomach up.

After the third time she finally saw particles of blue, she was finished at last. She reached up to the toilet and flushed, cursing herself for losing control. Her shoulders began to shake as she let tiny water droplets escape from her deep coffee colored eyes. She hated doing this to herself. Deep down, she knew that it was wrong to not eat for a week , then shove everything and anything she could find into her mouth, and then throw the contents of her stomach back up. She knew it wasn't normal, but she couldn't stop. Sometimes part of her wanted to admit she needed help, but she knew if she admitted she had a problem everything would come crashing down around her. She would be forced to go to some stupid doctor who would make her to eat and everyone would monitor her to make sure she kept the food down. There was no way she would be able to lose the fat that plagued her thighs and stomach if she admitted she needed help. And besides, she wanted to be perfect, or at least pretend she was. Perfect people didn't have issues like hers. If she admitted she had a problem she would break the mask of perfection she had spent years creating.

When Gabriella left the restroom a familiar dark haired girl was leaning against the sink, her green eyes locked on Gabriella's darker ones.

"Hey, Riley," Gabriella said as calmly as possible. What if Riley had heard? What if she knew?

Riley looked at her thin friend concerned, "Are you okay? I heard you get sick." Riley was blunt and to the point. Sometimes her straightforwardness reminded Gabriella a little of Sharpay.

Gabriella turned on the silver faucet and ran her hands under the scorching hot water, trying to kill the smell of sick. She nodded, not looking up at her friend. "Yeah, I told you I wasn't feeling well this morning. I decided to try a bite to eat and it backfired," she explained quickly, trying to make her story believable.

Riley looked at her friend and shrugged. "If you say so," the green eyed girl said. "Do you want a ride home or something?"

"No thanks," Gabriella said, a little too brightly. "Thanks though." Gabriella turned on the balls of her white ballet flats and marched out of the bathroom confidently. In the back of her mind she was replaying the scene from the bathroom. Riley hadn't seemed to completely believe her, the way her green eyes seemed to narrow a little bit, almost accusingly when Gabriella stepped out of the stall. She shook her dark, curly head. No, she convinced herself as she approached her table. She was just being paranoid.

* * *

"I'm think I'm going to head down to Mickler's Lake, I'm not really in the mood to party," Troy said as the teenagers exited Barefoot Grille a few minutes later. When Gabriella had returned to the table they had already paid their bill, eager to move onto their next and final destination. Gabriella had tried to hand Sharpay a ten, but the blonde girl waved her bony, manicured fingers insisting the meal was on her.

His friends all stared at him with baffled expressions on their faces, Troy Bolton was always in the mood for a party. Especially after a win on the basketball court. And a post game party without their captain was like a red carpet premiere without the stars, it just wasn't heard of.

"What do you mean you're not in the mood to party?" Sharpay asked, narrowing her eyes and resting her hands on her narrow hips. She had painted her stomach red with her boyfriend Zeke's number written in white across it for the game. Almost everyone else in the restaurant had put on shirts to go out to eat, but not Sharpay, she stood in front of the group in just a bedazzled red and white sports bra , clearly never used to work out in, and shorts, confidently staring up at them all. Most days the owners of Barefoot would have politely asked the girl to put on a shirt while she was eating, but on game days they let the unclothed students slide and show their proud, painted bodies off.

Troy shrugged, "I just don't feel like partying okay?" He shot Sharpay a look of death, telling her to back off without his eyes.

The blonde girl pouted, but didn't say anything else. She had been friends with Troy for long enough to know when to just let something go.

"Hey, do you think you could give me a lift home on your way to the lake?" Gabriella asked Troy suddenly, everyone's eyes flying to the thin girl.

Sharpay's mouth dropped open and she stared her friend up and down. "You better just be going home to get your car and change or something," the blonde girl threatened her dark haired friend. When Gabriella didn't respond Sharpay narrowed her cappuccino colored eyes, "You're not coming either? This is unbelievable. I can't believe you guys are just blowing off my party."

Her twin cleared his throat and Sharpay huffed, clearly not in the mood to deal with her brothers jealousy, "I mean our party. What the fuck is wrong with you guys?"

Gabriella rolled her toffee eyes at her dramatic friend, "Sorry, I just don't feel up too it," she said timidly.

"I just don't understand what the problem is. We just killed Menendez and you guys are acting like someone died or something," Sharpay whined, stomping her red stiletto clad foot on the pavement. "We might as well just cancel it," she said, trying to guilt her friends into coming.

Troy glared at Sharpay again, narrowing his cyan eyes harshly. "Get over yourself, Shar," he snapped. "Everyone else in school is expecting you to have a party, it's not that big of a deal if two people don't show."

Sharpay threw her bare, tan arms up in the air. "You forgot that the two most popular kids in school are the ones that are skipping it. Way to just ruin my first major party of the year. Thanks a lot you guys, some friends you both are," Sharpay whispered callously at the pair.

The boy ran a hand through his caramel colored locks and pulled harshly at the ends. He always tried to be the best friend he could, but tonight he just couldn't take. Sharpay's final words had made the ticking time bomb inside of him explode. "You know what Sharpay, fuck you. Stop trying to make us feel bad because we don't want to go to one fucking party. You're so fucking selfish all of the time, you make everything about you. Shouldn't you be a little more concerned about why your friends aren't in the mood to party for the first time ever? I'm sorry for once in my life I'm doing what I want to do and not trying to make you all happy. And I hate to break it too you, but the world isn't some pink bubble that revolves around you. Just go fuck yourself," the boy shouted storming away from the group and unlocking his navy colored Audi.

Everyone's jaws dropped to the floor at Troy's outburst. Always innocent and soft spoken Kelsi's pale brown eyes grew wide with fear and for the first time in her life Sharpay didn't have a retort. Instead they all stared at their friend's back as he retreated towards his sparkling car. Troy never got mad, ever. Troy was always the last one to snap, he was always the nice one, the calm one. Troy was the one nothing ever seemed faze, with his cocky omnipresent smile and the way his piercing eyes stared confidently out at the world.

"Hey not cool Bolton," Zeke defended his girlfriend, the first to say anything after Troy's explosion.

Troy raised his arms as if to say 'Whatever,' and without turning around yelled back to one member of the group, "Gabriella are you coming or not?"

The dark haired beauty froze on the spot, her mouth half open trying to form a sentence, unsure of what words were appropriate. She looked at her friends, taking in Chad's ringlets, Kelsi nervous expression, the emotion in Sharpay's eyes, a cross between hurt and anger, and then she glanced at the perfect sculpture climbing into the blue car. "I think I'm gonna with Troy," she whispered nervously to her friends.

The petite girl darted across the parking lot quickly, her midnight curls bouncing behind her as she ignored her friends whispers about 'What the fuck just happened?' She opened the passenger door and slid into the silver leather seat easily. The speakers were blasting an angry rock song and the second her door slammed shut the piercing blue eyed boy piloting the car floored the gas, peeling out of the parking lot.

"You want me to take you home or do you wanna come for a ride with me?" Troy yelled over the speakers, the fury from earlier ringing out crystal clear in his voice.

Gabriella thought for a moment, it was now or never. She finally had her chance with Troy, maybe they could even bond over what a bitch Sharpay was. "I'll go with you," she yelled back.

Troy tore his rage ridden eyes away from the road and glanced at the beautiful girl smiling nervously at him in the passenger seat. His eyes softened slightly when he saw her tuck a loose curl behind her ear shyly.

"If that's okay I mean," she shouted again over the music.

Troy nodded and hit the volume button on the steering wheel, lowering the volume of the heated guitar solo now pouring out the speakers. "Definitely," he said, his expression turning into one of surprise. He turned his golden face to look at the striking girl in the seat beside him. At least one thing might go his way tonight.


End file.
